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Whilst we were having a great time in Thailand, the news from England was a mixed bag. On the positive side, our facebook page was doing amazing and after the BBC clip the youtube videos were approaching a million hits. Unfortunately, that clip, highlighted the Campfire event and the council was not happy. Apparently, we broke loads of regulations, mainly about fire and safety. Martha looked into what we would have to do to conform and it just was not feasible. An agent had come forward with links with a possible record deal and arranging an alternative site. How real that all was we would have to find out on our return. The normal campfire was still happening, but the weather had caused a few to be cancelled.

We returned all tanned up and looking great. Well, at least I thought so. I felt fantastic too. I was young and fit, healed pretty fast and could not see any evidence that I was not a genetic girl. I know there is a big moral debate over whether you tell anyone you become close to, 'the truth'. No one likes to lie, and there is always the possibility that you will slip up or the truth is revealed in some other way. I figured I had no right to judge other people for their decisions in this matter and likewise, only I could decide who to tell, if I wanted to. Considering my circumstances, telling anyone could be hazardous to my health, so I reasoned, I would have to have a very compelling reason to tell anyone. Besides, if my brain was female, to suggest in any way that I wasn't, would be the greater lie, I think. If needed, I was quite happy to tell the small lie that I had had a hysterectomy, so couldn't have children. I still wasn't interested in boys, so a relationship where that needed to be said was unlikely.

I remember reading somewhere that the introduction of female hormones could have an impact on sexual orientation. I had been subjected to female hormones for a long time now, so I considered my orientation to be fixed and very unlikely to change. I know some people can be attracted to a particular person, regardless of gender, so I wanted to try and keep an open mind. All I could truly say was that, so far, nothing male had remotely interested me in a sexual way. Because of the way I had been teased (tormented) for most of my life, on the presumption that I was gay, I had had some surprising offers. Which I was completely uninterested in. Of course, gay now meant something completely different.

From our performing point of view, the latest was that we couldn't do another campfire set. The campfire would continue, just for the locals and I was not allowed to sing, in case word got out and the council nixed the whole thing. However, Martha had given our address to a couple of interested parties and they said they would send us a letter with their contact details. We had our phones switched off while in Thailand, ostensibly, because of the cost, but really because we didn't want anyone contacting us whilst I was having surgery. It would have been hard to explain, so the easiest thing was to only be contactable by email.

We had a mountain load of bags and because the granny flat was close to the canal there was quite a distance to carry all our luggage and it took us a few trips so we completely forgot to check the postbox until we had settled all the bags and started the laundry. I went, quite excited to see if the promised letters had arrived and what opportunities that would bring for my singing. Tracy was still pottering about the flat when I told her I would go to check the post.

This is where things got a bit unclear. Most houses just have an opening into their front door, but as we were situated at the back, Tracy had put up a separate box for our mail. It was only about waist high, so I bent over to look inside and see if we had anything. We don't get much, being largely paperless, so if there was anything inside, it was likely to be the letters we were interested in. Anyway, I was bent over, completely distracted from what was going on around me peering into this box, when I felt a sudden immense pain in my side. In my self defence classes, a few of us, unfortunately, those of us with the higher belts, which included me, had the opportunity (I prefer the word misfortune) to be tasered. This was to show us, that you could be the best martial artist in the world and still be taken down by guns or, as in this case a taser. At least it meant I knew exactly what had hit me, although there was nothing I could do about it. While I was pretty much helpless, I was grabbed and shoved into a van. Something was held over my face. I tried to hold my breath. Internally I was panicking and that didn't help. I succumbed and blacked out.

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Comments

One of the problems with reading dozens of serial stories at the same time is trying to remember what has happened in the past. I can't for the life of me think of anyone in this story that is likely to use a taser on her. Quite a cliff hanger.